Bounce Back
by Ginger Alli
Summary: A quick one-shot about Adam's difficult time in prison which takes place after "They're Playing My Song."


AN: I LOVE bad guy stories. And just to prove it, here's another! This one's about our dear, Rubberband Man, and it takes place right after "They're Playing My Song." For the most part, it's sweet, short one-shot about Adam's experience of jail time…which reminds me, I've got another jail story I need to finish…

Warnings: Language, angst, attempted rape.

Disclaimer: I don't own Static Shock. If I did, Richie would be my husband and love me forever.

The solid, steel prison door echoed like a gunshot as it slammed shut. The room was bare, with only two cots hanging by chains in the walls, an aluminum toilet to piss in and a shallow sink in the back.

His cellmate lay opposite side, on a mediocre cot reading a letter probably from his mother. Jerry, a white boy from the Ferris Row North Side projects, was perhaps one of the few decent criminals in lock down. And considering the brutal shape of Ferris Row, it was quite a compliment. At least he wasn't in one of those maximum meta-breed prisons. From the stories he'd heard, Hell was high tea in comparison. Ever since the whole music incident, Adam harbored an unfathomable hatred against that electric superhero. That dread-locked dipstick had interfered with his business and now he was here.

"Hey Adam, you got a letter too." As if Jerry hadn't said anything at all, Adam sat on his own bed staring at the floor. "Ain't you gonna read it, man?" Adam's eyebrows wrinkled.

"Nah, man." Jerry shrugged and moved to toss the letter in a pile of trash in the corner; but at the last minute, Adam changed his mind. "Could…could you read it for me?" A bit perplexed as to why a guy wouldn't want to maintain the privacy of his own mail, Jerry cautiously opened the white envelope and unfolded the paper inside. The cellmate cleared his throat:

_Adam, _

_I'm probably the last brotha you want to hear from, but just hear me out. _

Adam rolled his eyes, already knowing who the sender was.

_I saw the news, about how that whack rapper stole your music. What pisses me off more is that you wound up in jail. All you was trying to do is be a man and take back what was yours, right?_

Adam's face softened greatly. Damn, but it was scary how synchronized he and that man were.

_I mean what else could you have done? Gone to court? You know they wouldn't give you your props. To them, you nobody. But not to me, little bro. We family. And as soon as you get out, you come join my crew. With you and me runnin' things, we'll have Dakota under our thumbs like nothing. Hope this letter wasn't too hard for you to read, man. I know reading ain't your thing so I tried to make it short. Stay strong in lock down. I know you'll bounce back. You ever need me, Adam, you always know where to look. _

_ Big Bro, _

_ Ivan _

Jerry sat there, like he was in awe or something. And then, "…Adam, I didn't know you can't read." The rubber man shot a deadly glare at the young man. Not being a bang baby himself, Jerry immediately played defense. "Ay man, shit. It's cool. I know lots of folks can't read." He waved his hands in front of his face. "Hell, most of 'em can't even count past 10."

"Shut up, Jerry." Adam kicked his feet up and lay back, closing his eyes.

In the showers, Adam stayed isolated from most of the other inmates. Despite being a bang baby, he wasn't accepted by humans because he was too different. And in prison, if you were too different, you were hated. You got nicknames--usually derogatory—evil stares, whispers behind your back, less privacy. And that was the benevolent side of it all.

The tiles reflected an ugly smoker's-teeth-yellow with thick brown grime covering the grout. Laced with bread crust rust, the metal shower heads weakly spat water from holes that were too small. The water wasn't too warm, and Adam detested cold morning showers. But the water had to be cold…it was the only defense he had against the other convicts.

"Ay, there's that freak. Adam, right?" One inmate mumbled.

Adam ran the soap bar along his arms and torso, making suds bubble over his mahogany skin. But as his luck would have it, the slippery bar fled from his fist and plopped right on the tiles, sliding a few feet away. "Fuck," he muttered to himself.

"Just what I had in mind…" Rock, a thick-necked, burly black man approached him slowly, menacingly, forcing Adam to back up. The long-time inmate contrasted with Adam so deeply. His larger, more muscular build gave him the appearance of a bear. The bang baby, despite having super powers and what not, could physically feel the overwhelming presence against his narrow frame.

His nerves stiffened with fear, which was quite awkward considering he was made from rubber. "Back up, Rock. Not today…" Adam warned.

The taller man snorted skeptically. Pushing his way further towards the younger man, Rock touched his own abs, "What you gonna do, Adam?" The heavy inmate popped his knuckles in anticipation.

Adam continued retreating, the water was practically freezing now, but for some odd reason, it wasn't cooling Rock's heat. "Look, brotha, I don't want any trouble. Just stay on your own side, okay? Besides, I don't swing that way." But his protests weren't really getting through, he realized, when he found himself cornered. "I'm telling you, you ain't got nothing, Rock. If you push me I'll—"

"—beat my ass? You know what'll happen. Try any of that bang baby shit, and you'll be sent uptown, quick." Adam gritted his teeth, knowing Rock was right. And where were the goddamned wardens when you needed them? They were always watching his every move during days and nights since meta-humans could be trusted less than regular people. Why not now, though? As a matter of fact, Adam thought, not a single soul was to be found nearby. Sure he could hear the sounds of other showers running, but they were so distant.

"Now," Rock offered an eerie, yellow smile, "speaking of _bang_ baby, let's say we get down to business…" The stalls cut off, and prisoners began filing out to get towels.

Giving him the darkest look, the heavier man turned and glared over his rounded shoulders. "It ain't over yet, man. Next time…"

Out on the black top, the rubber metahuman sat alone as well, watching the other fellows lift weights, run, or do whatever else they pleased. The air stank of sweat and dust.

He looked down at the fading black numbers on his orange jumpsuit. Maybe going after that fake-ass producer wasn't the right decision. Guess Ivan was right then too--who was gonna believe that _I _wrote my own music? They just would've laughed, called me crazy. And Static, man that mother pisses me off. Guess I'll have to pay him a visit once I get outta here.

He felt tired and worn, like a pair of hand-me-down sneakers he used to wear in the sixth grade. His back ached from the bed, even though he shouldn't have felt a thing.

A sudden darkness overtook his surroundings, but Adam didn't bother looking up. Rock, gripping a sweaty, brown basketball and a tagalong posse towered over him, smothering any piece of sunshine with their shadows. Everyone was silent for a moment, making the still air thick and difficult to breathe while the hot sun baked the dark asphalt.

A half popping, half wheezing noise broke the quiet, startling Adam enough to make him flinch.

"Damn," Rock grumbled. "Looks like I don't know my own strength." In his hands he cradled a deflated basketball he had successfully punctured with his dirty, greasy fingertips. "Say, Adam. I bet you'd make a good substitute. Wanna play with us?" Somehow, the last few words spoken gave Adam a more disturbing feeling.

Adam looked the entire group up and down, practically smelling the rancor. "Nah, fellas…think I'll pass." To be degraded in such a fashion, the bang baby couldn't fathom. Plus, if Rock could bust a basketball effortlessly…he shuddered to think what would become of his own person in those crooked claws.

They showed no signs of leaving. Instead they moved in just a bit closer--their hefty, black shoes only a few inches away from his thigh. So Adam decided to be the one to bail…again. "But in any case…" he stood and started away. The last thing he wanted was to be near the musky stench of four grown men. "If you guys are in need of some balls, I suggest you grow some." He called over his shoulders. His own shadow stretched ten feet along the ground as he strolled away.

Almost, almost he thought that big dumb ass Rock would try to start something. He desperately wanted to turn around to see if the man would come after him. But he kept in one direction. Rock never did bother him--for a while anyway.

It was just about time for lights out. Adam sat alone in his cell, unknowing and uncaring of where Jeremy was. As the guards made final rounds however, whispered voices caught his attention.

"He's in 94. I switched his cell mate tonight. But just for tonight, okay?" A pair of uncoordinated footsteps grew louder and louder. "Oh, and try to be quiet. If this gets found out, we both are gonna be in some serious shit."

Adam quivered, his soulful eyes filling with an instinctual fear. Shortly, his qualms manifested themselves in his guts when he spotted Rock's, big round head in the clear door window. In what had to be slow motion, the bulky prisoner pushed in through a doorway that seemed too small. He could feel the footsteps shaking the floors and rattling the chained-up cots. Rock loomed over the ceiling and flashed that frightening, yellow grin.

"Hey there…" His voice was deep and low.

In a blinding flash, Adam found himself pinned to the cot, both hands beside his head. Rock's gator hold on his wrists kept the young man immobilized. A scream fastened itself painfully in the metahuman's throat, unwilling to leave as the dark smell of cigarettes and other indescribable evils wafted into his nostrils, paralyzing him even further.

"Think you can sass me and get away with it?--Huh!" After those few words, Adam found the strength to struggle. "Let me tell you, fool. Your name is BITCH from now on. After tonight, you gonna wish you had a pussy instead of an ass." Rock tightened his entire being, putting more strength into his fists and chest. The bang baby caught the sound of clothes rustling. "Let me ask you something, man…" As if Adam could refuse hearing the question, "You made of rubber, right? Kinda like a condom…After I fuck you, will you have AIDS too?"

Adam gritted his teeth, and forsook all. With inhuman power and flexibility, he snapped his body upward, throwing Rock directly into the ceiling. Instantly he rolled to the side, letting the felon slam down onto the stiff, barely cushioned mat. The impact of his drop was so hard, the chains were pulled from the loud making a loud report. Rock lay unconscious in the tangle of chains and rubble.

This time a crowd of footsteps were heading closer. "This way, number 94!"

Looking down at the disgusting brute, Adam curled his lip in repulsion. "If they ain't gonna play by the rules, neither will I." Flattening himself against the wall to paper thinness, he waited.

The door flung wide open. "In here!" As the guards filed in, they were awestricken. The room was wrought with destruction and wisps of smoke from the broken rocks. The far left right cot was barely suspended against the wall, its chains tattered. A round mass lay unmoving over a soft pool of blood. "The metahuman, he's escaped! Hit the alarm." As they filed out another commanded, "Get a stretcher in here, this man needs medical attention." Two of the policeman approached the still lump on the floor.

By then, Adam was already half a mile down the road.

2 Months Later

"…Police still have no knowledge of the whereabouts of Adam Evans. In other news, the hip, buzz-artist Stringer is taking the west coast by storm. Critics say the magic melodies and synthesized sounds of this keyboardist are shaping a new branch of music entirely…"

"Didja see the news, boo! I told you you'd be a big hit!" Sharon's excited and slightly squeaky voice tickled his ears over the phone. "Stringer I'm so proud of you! Hold on, I gotta call Rita about this!"

He smiled sadly, "Yeah…you do that…" He hit end on his cell and placed it on the night stand.

"What's the matter baby bro? Thought you'd like the music life…"

Adam narrowed his eyes and morphed from his celebrity guise to his natural appearances. "Not now, Ivan…I'm really not feelin' it today."

It only took seconds for the few scattered shadows in the room to melt into one being. A complete darkness rose from the carpet, taking the shape of man. "I can't say 'hi' to my own flesh and blood?" He barely sounded hurt so his sibling didn't respond. "I gotta admit, Adam. I always took you for the good one in the family…never thought you'd break out."

Adam turned over to one side, glaring at the wall. He felt the foot of the bed sink in. "I had my reasons…"

Ivan started to glare as well. "Adam…what happened—"

"—I _don't _wanna talk about it."

"Somebody mess with you, bro? Cuz if they did—"

"IVAN!" The shadow man stopped. "Really…don't…don't worry about it," he sighed. The last thing the rubber man wanted was to talk about prison, much less recall its details.

The older man sighed, standing up. "I was hoping you'd join my crew, Adam. But if the music thing goes okay for you, you know I won't complain. I'm just glad you got something good in your life…you deserve it." Adam sat up, wanting his brother to explain what he had said but when Ivan had already gone.

"Thanks man…" he whispered into the air.

Rock sat on his cot in solitary confinement. The quiet drip-drip of water from the sink echoed. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular until a tiny movement whizzed past the corner of his eye. For a long time he watched the sink. Something seemed wrong. His street instincts told him something was off. His eyes roamed over to the annoying pings. It was then that he noticed.

The sink's shadow was pointing in the wrong direction.

"Sup, dawg?"

Rock's eyes grew wide with horror. "…Who's there…?" That awkward, incorrect silhouette began to spread. Its blackness grew thicker and wider, stretching across the walls and the floor, enveloping what few commodities he was allowed. In a matter of seconds, Rock sat in a room so dark he thought his eyes were closed. Now the dripping water pounded his ear drums, making them ache. "Ay, man. This shit ain't funny…"

"Neither is trying to fuck my brother…But if you need some tail to hit, I got a few friends willin' to help you out, man."

As the warden busted through the door, the only thing left in the room was Rock's orange jumpsuit.

FIN

AN: The ending, eh…I dunno. But like I said before, I totally dig the bad guy backgrounds. People focus on the hero so much they forget the other side of the road. What about the bad guys? Anyway, I'm such an Ebon fan. He so rocks my world. He's next on my list so keep a lookout. And after him, I might do a Specs and Trapper; they're on my favorites list too.


End file.
